Zero in the Rain: Snapshots
by Ysavvryl
Summary: Exactly what it says in the title. Descriptive one-shots of various series. Eight: Iris part two
1. Zero in the Rain

_A/N: Since I can't do Fanart, you'll have to put up with fan descriptive essays from me! This is an image that's been stuck in my head for a long time but, even with the various MMX fanfics I've written, I've never had a place to put it. This image is set pre-MMX1, after Zero has been awakened but before the Maverick Hunters have captured him._

With the ferocity of an untamed beast, the hurricane ripped across the shoreline neighborhood. Roofs were stolen off buildings, porches were smashed into the ground, cars were seized by the ocean, and boats were thrown onto land. The sharp wind gave nails the power to pierce metal armor. The warm rain became water that could beat plants and animals senseless. In an instant, the storm could tear up the roots of a ten-year-old tree and kill it with a bolt of electricity in the air. The violence was massive, senseless… but also mindless.

Within the storm, though, there was also a source of violence that was far from mindless. He was defiant to the storm without because it could not compare to the storm within. He had a mission of destruction. While it had been aborted once, he was active again and ready to finish the job. The hurricane was little more than a nuisance.

A weather reporter in the area did not find the storm a nuisance. She found it a thrill and a challenge. Most days, her job consisted of standing around the studio, watching computer scans and predictions, and then translating that information for the watchers of daily news broadcasts. In short, mostly boring. But then came a storm like this and, while it could ruin many peoples' lives, it infused her with love and excitement for meteorology all over again.

The human reporter wore a long yellow rain slicker with tall black boots. In these hurricane-force winds, umbrellas were useless so she had a clear hood piece that snapped onto the slicker. Even so, she had to wrap an arm over her head to keep the hood in place. She held her right hand over the small microphone clipped onto her collar, in an attempt to protect it from the rain. There was a grin on her wet face. "This is so amazing," she said again. "Aren't you glad we convinced them to let us stay?"

"Yup," her cameraman said. Given that the equipment he was wearing made him top heavy, they had secured him to a sturdy metal pole so the howling winds didn't knock him over. His camera was big, black, bulky, and blocky, mostly because it required strong plastic shielding to protect it from potent raindrops and various flying debris. Part of it rested on his shoulder, but part of it rested on a brace that went around his stomach. This was to keep weight more evenly distributed so his arm didn't get tired during this long vigil. A crash of thunder boomed through the air, shaking it even where they stood.

Shortly before the hurricane made itself known on land, they had picked out this spot as a viewing platform to the storm. It was a wooden deck that led from a parking lot to a popular sandy beach with a great view of the ocean. For now, they were the only ones there. They were far enough from the shoreline that even the greatest waves were unlikely to hit them directly, but close enough that they could record those roaring waves. Turning some, they could record damage to nearby vacation homes and a ritzy five-star hotel resort. Lots of drama, much potential for lucrative shots. Even if the hotel got destroyed, they might just get a special payment from the resort for recording that destruction.

"Careful!" the reporter cried out, struggling against the wind to get to a post opposite the one the cameraman was tied to. A tall metal pole then slammed into the other end of the deck, jamming itself at an upright angle for a little while. "No quick, get a good shot of that!"

The cameraman made sure that his equipment was recording, then panned up to the top of the flagpole. Hanging there was a black flag made ragged by the forces of the storm. Curiously enough, there was a white image of a grinning skull on that flag. Two bony hands were depicted below it, the right holding onto a lightning bolt while the left held onto a snake. "That's wicked."

"I know," the reporter said, gleefully. "I wonder where that flag came from. That shot is sure to be worth a pretty penny later on."

"I would agree." He recorded the soaked flag flapping in the wind for a while, then panned out to get the view of the beach behind the strange pirate symbol.

As the pole began shifting and creaking, the reporter walked back out to her old spot. "I bet those pirates would be having a bad day if they were out to sea now. The hurricane would smash them down to Davy Jones' locker."

The flagpole was quickly reclaimed by the hurricane. For a moment, the cameraman thought to follow it into the sky. But then something through the lens caught his eye. Over at the water's edge, there was a spot of bright crimson red.

"There it goes," the reporter said, but the cameraman was already zooming out to whatever that red object was. The rain sheet was quite dense, but he could make out a blurry human-like figure standing in front of an incoming wave. As he focused his view, he could make out a metallic texture that suggested this was a reploid instead of a human. A flash of bright yellow showed that this reploid had a long ponytail coming out the back of his helmet. Extremely long, likely coming down past his knees.

"That's got to weigh a ton in this rain," the cameraman muttered. The reploid was facing the crazed ocean and the incoming frothing wave. He didn't move and he didn't flinch as a rabid wall of water taller than he was smashed into him. Although the storm-whipped ocean had the strength to tear through beach houses, it did not have the strength to make this reploid budge.

"What would?" the reporter asked, looking out towards the beach. Squinting, she could only make out a colored blur behind the curtain of rain. "What's that?"

"It's a reploid, I think," he answered. "He's got to be a tough one for taking the full force of this storm like that."

"Really? I hadn't heard any were being left here. Maybe he's doing some research." She waited for a moment when the wind hushed, then called out, "Hey mister! How's it going?"

Through the camera's view, the cameraman saw the reploid turn his head back to them . The open part of his helmet only had a slight shield to keep the rapid rain out of his eyes. He decided to leave the ocean and run over to where they were. Zooming his view back rapidly to follow, the cameraman kept watching the stranger. He had yellow and black accents, but didn't seem to be a common design. Some reploids had insignias that made it easy to identify their maker and employer, but not this one.

"Hi," the reporter said cheerfully as the reploid got close. "Enjoying the weather?"

His response was to punch her in the jaw, then grab her shoulders in both hands and slam her head into the wooden railing of the deck. She didn't get to make much more than a frightened gasp before he had her killed. Realizing that he didn't stand a chance secured to the post like he was, the cameraman's hands trembled. In the last shaky frames of the video, the red reploid turned to look at him. His bitter blue eyes showed an intense hatred and insanity before he turned his deadly skill on the cameraman.

The footage ended a few seconds after that.


	2. O Holy Night

_I meant Zero in the Rain to be a stand-alone story, but my one reviewer mentioned how it would be neat to have a story about that bit of history after X awakened, but before the Maverick Wars began. I agree with that; however, with my canon-bending tendencies, I may not be the best author for that. But it also reminded me of something another reviewer to another story mentioned once. In many stories about reploids, there aren't many humans about. Maybe Dr. Cain, maybe some people who die, but not many humans characters who interact with the reploids (outside of violence)._

_That may be different now, and on this site, what with the newer series of Megaman games around. But that all inspired me to write another descriptive snapshot, this time of X. If you like this idea, leave a review and I might drop in from time to time to add another one._

_Again, this is early on, before X joined the Maverick Hunters.  
_

**O Holy Night**_  
_

A string of notes drifted through the heated air. The old wooden church had only two visitors, but the piano seemed to make the space feel alive and sacred. Here, the outer world seemed miles away. Any troubles it might have contained would not touch this space. At least, one would hope.

Hope… that word appeared on white ornaments of the pine tree that was securely nestled in a large ceramic pot in the front of the sanctuary. While its native needles were long with pointed tips, its appearance was softened with white and silver garland. Its appearance was turned to glowing with the soft white and silver lights strung through its darkly colored branches. A nativity scene was arranged with glass ornaments there: white-robed angels with golden trumpets, a modest Holy Mother with Joseph by her side, some attending donkeys and cows, two shepherds with a few woolly sheep, the three lavish wise men bearing exotic gifts… the baby in the manger wasn't on the tree currently, as He would have a part in the next day's sermon.

One note slipped wrong, causing the music to fumble. "Oops," the player said bashfully.

The piano teacher gave him a forgiving nod. "X, don't let one mistake stop you. Just smooth it over and continue playing."

He took in a deep breath, then let it out. "I wanted it to be good this time."

"You were doing well. But you can't be perfect yet; you still need to practice."

"Yes, m'am." After a hesitant second, he placed his fingers back on the white keys and began the song again.

Leaning back in the wooden pew, the teacher smiled to herself. She hadn't been sure about taking on a reploid student at first. They were like better versions of the old robot masters, right? But they were still fancy computers. Computers didn't need piano lessons. If one put the right calculations in them, they could play a piece in perfect imitation. Exactly the same, every single time, without even an attempt at a personal touch.

At least, that's what she'd thought a few months ago. X wasn't that way. X made mistakes. Like any other piano student, he took a few lessons to figure out the coordination of all ten fingers, plus the foot pedals. And then some more lessons to learn how to read sheet music, and then to translate what he saw on the page with his eyes to what he did with his fingers on the keys. He was also like her most perfectionist students in that he did not want to make a mistake. He even grew frustrated with the learning process from time to time, but stuck with it all the same.

And that wasn't the only way he was like her human students. The piano was twelve feet from where she was sitting; a low curving wall hid the upright piano from most views around the sanctuary. At that distance, he looked convincingly human: short black hair, not completely neat while falling in natural ways. A modest frame that was passably average for a fit young adult male. A green sweater with snowmen on it along with dark colored blue jeans and canvas snow boots with fur trim. He wasn't professional looking, and he wasn't artificial looking. No, he seemed to be as real as the tree hidden under lights and garland. But not as showy.

He was learning fast, the teacher admitted to herself. Tomorrow, he would be playing his first piece in front of a large audience, the church-goers attending the Christmas Eve service. That was why he was practicing this one song over and over again. The locals knew he was a reploid and not a human; some were nervous about X playing at their church. Perhaps that was why he was nervous of mistakes.

As the song continued, this time with no fumbling, the teacher glanced around the church. There were pine wreaths on the columns, decorated with pine cones, berries, and angel figures. The wooden floor was cleaned and polished up, along with everything else. From the looks of things, everything was ready for tomorrow.

After getting through the song successfully (for the eighth time this evening), X paused in his playing. He turned around and glanced out the window. Scrolling frost patterns were forming even as they sat there, and fog blanketed that up. "The storm's still going. Do you want me to ride with you back to your place? In case trouble comes up."

"Wouldn't you have further to walk back to Dr. Cain's house?" she asked.

He shifted to smile at her. "I'll be all right. I walked here earlier, and I've got internal temperature regulators. But if you get stuck, you might get frostbite."

"That's true." She smiled back at him. While she would be reluctant with her other older male students, she knew X wouldn't try any untoward. He was a reploid, after all. "It would be reassuring to have the company. Thank you."

"You're welcome." He turned back to the piano, thinking. "May I try this once more? I want to make sure I've got this right."

"Go ahead."

This time, she closed her eyes and thought of just the serene music.


	3. Reverse Taunting

_Thanks for the comments! These are meant to be mostly disconnected one-shots, save maybe being in the same universe; I just like keeping shorter stories together as it feels more organized. Anything longer than 5,000 words or so would get posted separately._

_Speaking of length, this one focusing on Iris came out longer than the other two. And more dialogue intensive. But the set-up is worth it. This is another area of the X series that really needs more done with it. Zero having a girlfriend is... well it's just seems weird to me. Likely because writing a romance with Zero that keeps him in-character and makes Iris more than a shallow love interest seems like quite the challenge. Although since it has to do with romance, I'm sure there's a number of fics related to this time period between X3 and X4._

**Reverse Taunting**

One thing that people had learned about combat reploids was that they tended to be good at one thing: combat. They didn't relate well to civilians and bystanders, to others who were not equipped with strong armor and deadly weapons. With some time and a civilian to relate to, these combat reploids could learn why not everybody could fight, or would fight. They would then have a frame of reference for others who needed to be protected. And that was her purpose.

Iris was on record as being a psychotherapist, although she never had any individual patients. She had dozens of 'patients', her fellows in the reploid militia of Repliforce. As the rest were all combat reploids of various kinds, she was the only civilian there. Her job was to be friends with the rest and remind them that life wasn't war, that combat wasn't everything. So far, she was doing well.

However, that meant that today was boring her greatly. A number of the top fighters in Repliforce, including her brother Colonel, had come to an arena competition between many different businesses, organizations, and labs. It would be one battle after another in this closed in stadium, a rather dark and gray place of stone and metal. While she didn't mind supporting her fellows, it just wasn't something that interested her.

Sighing, she looked out of the dusty window of the lobby. Outside, it was sunny and beautiful. The arena was part of a large amusement park, with rides, theater shows, games, and many more fun things. Iris saw groups of humans laughing, chatting, and generally having a good time. Children carried balloons, sweethearts walked hand in hand, and even the occasional reploid walked by in enjoyment of the sights. However, her peers and brother would go frantic if she left without telling them. They had already said she couldn't go alone.

Why had she agreed to come today? It was such a tease, with the amusement park on the other side of the thin glass and her stuck in here with all the macho taunting, gloating, fighting… she put her elbows on the table and put her forehead on her hands. "So boring," she whispered to herself.

"Hi Iris," an unexpected voice called from nearby.

It was one she recognized though, so she dropped her hands and smiled at the red armored reploid standing by her. "Well hi Zero! It's good to see you. How're you doing?"

"Bored," he said bluntly, dropping down in the seat across from her. "You look bored too."

Her gaze went back out the window for a moment. "Yeah, but I came for the others." She looked back to him; his expression was unreadable as usual, but he had said something odd. "And you're bored? I thought you'd be entering this competition."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Nah. I'd trash all of the competition, so why bother?"

Laughing at that, she responded, "You sound confident in that."

"I would," he insisted. He looked out the window, but didn't seem to find anything interesting there. "Then what're you doing? Just watching?"

"More or less," she said, then thought about it. "Probably less, actually. This doesn't really interest me. Besides, it's disappointing."

"No exciting matches?" he asked. "Some of them might be good."

She shrugged. "I wouldn't know. No, what's disappointing is that I'm in an amusement park and I can't go out there. The guys are all going to be here for the day and they don't want me going out alone."

"It's for your own safety," Zero said, nodding some. "Although they could take you out between some matches."

"Maybe. But then they'd want to go on the roller coasters, and I get sick on those. And there's this carousel that I'd really like to go on, but they wouldn't dare. It's a triple decker one, with three layers of animal sculptures in such fantastic designs… it sounds so wonderful." She smiled at the thought.

"I'll take you over there if you want," Zero offered.

Surprised, she looked right at him, hoping that he might be serious about this. "Really?"

He nodded. "Sure. I'm not doing anything and Colonel can't complain that you're at risk if I'm with you."

"True." She got up, wearing a wide smile. "Great! Let's go tell him, then we can go out."

Oddly enough, they found him in a nearby hall. And he agreed to let her leave the arena so long as Zero stayed with her. "Just don't lose track of her or I'll make you sorry for it," Colonel said in a partly threatening voice.

"I won't," Zero said, not bothered by the intimidation.

"Aw, it's Zero," Iris teased her brother. "I don't think anybody would dare attack me with him nearby."

"I have to make sure," he insisted, shifting his black cap. "You're an important member of Repliforce as well."

Once the two of them left the arena, Iris started happily talking about all the things in the amusement park. Zero had never been talkative, but he offered a few thoughts of his own on occasion. They had met because he had been assigned as a representative of the Maverick Hunters to watch over the development of Repliforce. At first, she had simply addressed him like any of her peers. He was another combat reploid, after all.

Over time, Iris had grown closer to certain members of Repliforce. And Zero. It was different talking to him, as his experience gave him different perspectives. However, he still kept some distance between himself and anyone who tried to get close. It seemed that some of those experiences were bad ones and he was leery of strangers as a result. But they were more than strangers now. Perhaps even friends?

They came to the famed carousel after several minutes of walking. It was like something from a romantic fairy-tale, a glittering fantasy come into the mundane world. On top, there was a statue of a dancing fairy, painted gold with light strands through its wings. Then golden frills spread down a white roof to cover the ride with the toppings of a cake. Playful cherub gargoyles came out at various points, playing elegant instruments. And then there was the triple decked ride itself, done up in absolute gaudiness and absolute fun.

"That is so lovely," Iris said. She looked over to her friend. "But are you sure you want to come on? It's kind of childish and girly for someone like you."

Giving an indifferent shrug, he replied, "Well your brother did say to keep track of you. It doesn't bother me that much."

"It's good to know that you're secure enough in being a man that you don't mind this," she teased him. "Okay, let's go up to the third level."

On finding out that the carousel was currently in constant movement, where people could come on and off as they pleased, Iris merrily skipped up the metal steps to the third level. Zero followed right behind her, maybe not showing as much enthusiasm, but at least showing tolerance. Around the edges, a white shimmer betrayed a safety shield that kept riders from falling off. It ended at the stairway entrances. And since the floor wasn't moving too fast, it was easy to step on and start looking for an interesting animal to ride.

This carousel would look even more fantastic at night, Iris thought. There were many round lights scattered all around, along with beautiful mirrors on the central column and the ceiling. In curved rows of three, the various sculptures were attached to moving poles, which were painted gold and seemingly twisted with silver ribbons. There was only one horse that she saw, but there was also a unicorn, a bear, a trout, a camel, a llama, a sheep…

"Oh, there's a crane!" Iris cheered and walked back a few animals to find a pretty white and gray crane on the outside edge. It wore a gem-encrusted crown and similar saddle. At the end of its long beak, it held onto a little silver star charm. She took the pole and put her left foot in the stirrup.

"Can you get up there?" Zero asked, pausing by her.

"Yeah," she said. When the crane hit the low point of its cycling, she lifted herself into the saddle easily. "And there's a nice tiger right there for you."

Zero glanced at the tiger, which seemed to be in a running pose. It was orange with black stripes and quite powerful looking, but wore a tall blue hat and puffy cuffs around its paws that made it look like it belonged in a marching band. Whether he approved of it or not, he got on it to ride by her.

Feeling pleased, Iris gripped the metal pole and looked around. The carousel had a wonderful view over the amusement park. Many colorful tents, flags, and balloons could be seen lining the winding lanes that spread through the entire grounds. A short distance away, there was a wooden rail bridge. For a moment, she could see an equally fanciful and extravagant train crossing over. The sides were open, letting the passengers relax in the moving air, taking in even more sights. It whistled cheekily, blocking out the carousel's charming music-box style soundtrack.

And there were all the people. They were at peace, having fun and getting along with little effort. To her, that was wonderful. After spending so much time around a military base, it felt good for her to be in a place more suited to her personality.

But it wasn't really to Zero's personality, was it? Iris looked to him. He was looking blankly at the band hat of his tiger, his thoughts somewhere else. Whatever it was, it seemed to make him nervous. That was strange. "Penny for your thoughts?" she asked.

"Huh?" he looked back to her. "Oh… don't worry about it."

"Something's bothering you. Is this boring you?"

"Not really." He let out a long breath then, looking aside again. Seeming to settle on something, he straightened up and got his look of confidence again. Zero then looked back at her and said, "Anything could be enjoyable with your lovely and warm presence."

At first, Iris blinked. Then she burst into laughter. "Zero!"

He looked bewildered. "What?"

She covered he mouth, trying to stop laughing, but he seemed so serious about it. "A-are you trying to flirt with me?"

Reaching back to check his hair in a nervous gesture, he replied, "I tried…"

Taking a deep breath, she managed to calm herself down. "I appreciate the effort, but you didn't quite make the mark."

"Well I thought, you know, that flirting is kind of like taunting, but in reverse. I'm pretty good at taunting others, but…"

Iris pinched her lip to keep from breaking out in giggles. Part of herself was delighted that he was trying. Maybe he thought of her as someone special. But then, "It's a place to start, but you don't flirt in the same tone you taunt with."

"Oh." Then he hid his face with his hand. "Oh right. That should have been obvious. Sorry, I don't watch romances or anything, so I didn't really know what to do."

Typical of a combat-oriented reploid, Iris found herself thinking. But she couldn't really be a therapist in this situation. Maybe something more personal? "Speak more gently," she suggested. "You want to make the person you like feel good about themselves, and you in turn. And it's better to be honest and say why you like her. Like with you, I enjoy meeting and talking with you; it makes me happy. And I appreciate you offering to come with me today. It makes me feel that even though you seem to be a cold person, that you have a warm heart deep within."

Zero uncovered his face, briefly showing a rare bashful smile on his face. But it soon smoothed out to his usual mask of indifference. Not fully, though. He still seemed troubled. "I don't think I could do as well as that," he admitted. "I don't really know why…" he clasped the carousel pole while trying to think of what to say.

As she lived with a number of military reploids, Iris understood that this could be more difficult for him. So she waited quietly, glancing around at the other animals. There weren't many other riders right now, which was good. Zero would be more reluctant to talk like this if there were, even with the twinkling carousel music playing in the background.

After a couple of minutes, he started speaking again. "I don't like relaxing, making idle time like this. Even in a place like this, an attack could happen, so I would need to be at ready. But when you're around, I don't mind being relaxed. I actually like that, just being here, talking with you."

Iris smiled at him. "I'm glad. And that's much better."

"Is it good?"

"Not ideal, but I don't mind, coming from you."

A pair of yelps interrupted their talk, along with a clatter of the metal steps. A group of four children came up to the third level of the carousel and got on, quickly looking for animals they liked. "Aw, I wanted a tiger," one boy said.

"You can take it," Zero said, getting off his. "I'll…"

Iris slipped off her crane as well. "We can go back to that chariot over there," she said, taking his left hand. "Does that work?"

For a moment, he seemed surprised that she would do that. But then he nodded. "Sure." And he held onto her hand on the way over.

With her emotional core skipping in joy, she leaned in closer to him. "And if you want to make up for that horrid bit of flirting," she whispered playfully, "you can call this a date and stay with me for the rest of the day."

"A date?" He considered it for a bit. "I've never been on a date… I know even less about that then I do flirting."

She patted his arm. "I've never been on a date either," she informed him, although she certainly had a better concept of it. "So we'll figure it out together."

Zero nodded, then even gave her another smile. "Sure. Let's do that."


	4. A Negative of Copying

_Somebody asked me to tackle Axl next, so I did. I'll admit that I've not played X7 or X8, but I am a big fan of Command Mission. After checking the Megaman wikia, I recalled a discussion about that game wondering why Axl can copy some bosses, but not others. For instance, he can copy the optional boss and uber-girly-cute music idol Rafflesian, but can't copy the more... uh, mature whip-wielding female story boss of Ferham. It might be that Axl can copy female reploids like Ferham, but he doesn't want to._

**A Negative of Copying**

Today's mission: find out why women spend so much time in the bathroom.

Okay, Axl admitted to himself, that wasn't really a mission. It was a curiosity which, quite frankly, would not leave his mind once someone had mentioned it. He wasn't doing anything else today, though, as he had a day off while the Red Alert smarties (as he called the intelligence workers) reviewed evidence and looked for cases to take. Although they kept telling him that he seemed to be designed with espionage in mind, he'd never really been interested. But in this case, spying would be better than just going in and interrogating some woman. Bathroom topics weren't really good for conversation between strangers, after all.

The place he had in mind: Nine Oaks Mall, a shopping center in the middle of a large city. It was ideal for the mission. There would be lots of people around, so his snooping about wouldn't be as noticeable. There was security there, but they knew him and wouldn't hassle him as much if he somehow got caught. In the mall's design, there were a lot of narrow halls and small hiding spots where he could transform without drawing much attention to himself. And he was familiar with the place, which was a huge plus.

The time: middle of the afternoon on Saturday. Again, there would be lots of people, both humans and reploids, so more distractions were available. Axl had considered later in the evening so he could make the excuse that it was a silly dare… but then he was a reploid and so he couldn't get drunk. The 'dare' reason was still there for last resort.

That left one major thing to decide upon: how to infiltrate the women's restroom. His basic appearance was that of an adolescent boy, with long brown hair, large eyes, and a slim masculine build. However, that was his basic appearance. He possessed a unique 'copy chip' which allowed him to alter his appearance and voice to any reploid he had taken DNA from. It wasn't really DNA; older scientists used to call it EPM, or Electronic Programming Map.

And taking that data didn't require hacking. Conscious hacking, anyhow, as he just knew he had to observe the reploid or mechaniloid in action for a while. It wasn't a perfect ability. The more complicated the machinery, the longer it took in observation for Axl to get the transformation right. And when reploids achieved a certain level of complexity, he just had no patience for observing that long.

In his data logs, he had a form that would be ideal for this mission. He didn't have many female forms that looked enough human to not get noticed in a bathroom, but there was one he had picked up on a mission some time ago. It was an odd one and he considered deleting it from time to time. The abilities of that 'bot were puzzling; he wasn't sure how they could be useful. Or even how to use them. But he didn't need the abilities. He just needed the look.

At two-thirty, Axl entered the mall in his normal appearance. The security guards up front had stopped him to make sure that he had all weapons locked or otherwise inactive; he had cooperated. There was a large crowd, as he expected. Among the chatter, music, and blaring ad screens, Axl checked around and considered looking in some stores he liked later. But Red had taught him that to be professional, one had to deal with business issues first, personal later. This was all personal on some level, but it was good to practice the professionalism. People would respect him more if he did.

Axl headed over to a food court; there were always restrooms near the food court. And there was a small hallway that, while meant for employees, allowed him to slip out of view for a little while. There, he shifted into his assumed form as a female reploid. The transformation always caused a momentary light; the smarties said it could be because the shapeshifting required melting his body metals to reform into the new shape. Axl didn't understand that. If he had to melt himself to change form, why didn't he toast his data every time he did it? Sometimes those smart guys missed obvious stuff.

This form was a nice one, he reflected. It had nicely styled red hair, light weight green armor, and a pretty face. The skirt part of the armor was different, with a hem at mid-thigh to legs that had synthetic flesh and tall green boots. However, each form had oddities and his natural programming allowed him to be flexible in adapting to new moving styles. He then slipped back into the crowd and went over to the ladies restroom.

Glancing about, he saw a number of guys giving him interested looks, which utterly creeped him out. Sure, his form might have been female, but his mind had a masculine slant. He didn't want to take a lot of time with this because of that. But at least his target location would have only women in it.

The entrance to the restrooms was offset from the hall, with a group of drinking fountains in between. Picking the door with the stick figure in a dress, he found the usual privacy hall that turned around to make it harder to look inside. There was a dark brown bench on one wall with a potted plant as decoration. Making a complete turn, he spotted a baby changing table. But the plastic station was closed and he knew a similar thing would be in the men's restroom. Then there was the room itself.

To his disappointment, it looked much like the men's half minus the urinals. There was a row of closed-off stalls done in an inoffensive yellow cream color, with a few larger handicapped stalls at the end. There were tan tiles on the floor and a smooth ceiling above. Opposite the stalls, there was a long row of automated sinks under a long mirror. There were some smaller plants on the ends of the sinks, but otherwise it was plain and generic.

There were women and girls in here, but most of them were in the stalls. A pair of teen girls was talking about where to buy clothes as they waited on an opening. There was one woman at the sink area doing some work on her makeup. Nothing really intriguing, just normal everyday stuff. At that, he wondered if the simple explanation was true, that feminine clothing styles and their biological structure made them take longer in the bathroom than men.

Although he worried that this might have been a waste of time, he didn't want to look suspicious by leaving right away. Axl went over to the sink area and washed his hands, taking a paper towel with him to take care of a non-existent spot on his face. That looked innocent enough; as a reploid, there wasn't much else he could do in this restroom. At least the question wouldn't bug him anymore.

The woman near him looked to him curiously. As he tossed the paper towel away, she clicked her make-up kit shut and followed him out. "Odd to see a model like you around here."

Puzzled, he looked to her. "Oh? Why?" His voice came out as a charming feminine speech, matching this form's look well.

"Aren't you a call girl from the downtown bars? I thought pleasure bots like you didn't wander far from your workplace."

Oh. That was why this form had really strange skills and was getting all those lustful looks. Blushing, Axl mumbled, "I, I'm getting some modifications. That's not who I am." Then he hurried out to leave the bathroom ahead of her.

Thankfully, there was a turn near the bathrooms that led to a group of offices. Axl went that way and breathed silent thanks when he found the hall empty. Then he shifted back to his normal form. Now that he knew what that female form was, there was no way he was going to use it again.

He buried his face in his hands. "I've got to be more careful of who I copy," he whispered to himself.


	5. Inspection

**Inspection**

The sun beat down from high above, causing the humans to wince from brightness. Their skin glistened with sweat. Since they had a job to do, they adjusted by putting on sunglasses and using their papers to occasionally fan the air around them into moving. The two reploids in the group weren't bothered by the unusual June heat wave, at least externally. Internally, they did have to run their cooling systems harder and longer than usual, in order to avoid overheating.

All around the path they were walking on were black metal pillars, about four feet high and seemingly innocent lighting features. One of the reploids of the group, a male human-like model with armor made into a long black military overcoat and an officer's hat, patted one despite the heat it had built up sitting in the sun. "These units are capable of turning into small plasma cannons and force field generators. If we have a thief or the like infiltrate our base, we can trap him or her on the path with them. And if we get more skilled infiltrators, there are many more weapons disguised as ordinary objects around. Like that tree." He smiled, but didn't explain the realistic looking fake ginkgo tree.

"You do seem to have one of the most well-defended bases of the current reploid military organizations, Colonel," one of the humans said in an unreadable neutral tone. They were on an inspection tour of such groups.

"We're determined to not get caught unprepared at our own base," Colonel said. Yes, one would have to be quite stupid to attack the Repliforce home base. They were ready for such idiots, with at least six Ride Armors ready to operate at a moment's notice, all-Reploid troops that were trained and retrained daily on a strict regiment, hidden weapons such as the pathway lights and blasters in the rain gutters, and buildings reinforced to take impacts as severe as three of the largest missiles in the world striking at once. That is, if those missiles got past their anti-air and anti-missile technologies.

"That is a good thing to keep in mind," one of the other humans said.

Colonel smiled. That was true. One of the worst outbursts of war in recent times had been when Sigma's Mavericks stormed the Maverick Hunters Headquarters, which had been woefully defended at the time. Of course, they had also been woefully underfunded and trying to cope with the first Maverick war just a few months before that. These days, the Maverick Hunters were doing better. But not good enough, leading to the development of Repliforce and other military defense organizations. Colonel was determined to prove his group the best of them all.

As they walked by the training area again, one of the women looked thoughtfully over a squad of close combat fighters who were practicing. "If a large scale war broke out," she asked, "how long would Repliforce need to mobilize every unit available? Theoretically speaking, of course."

"76 minutes for nearly everything and everyone," Colonel answered. "We've had drills to reduce it that far under two hours. There are a few weapons that we wouldn't be able to activate that quickly, as they require government authorization to bring out. But I'm sure, in a theoretical case of an emergency, that those could be brought out and up to readiness within a day."

"Hmm." She wrote something down (as did a few others) but didn't reveal what she was thinking. "There have been many attacks and riots by Mavericks in the past few months, though."

That was troublesome. But he and his leader General had come up with an answer to that way before this inspection date had been announced. "We are aware of that. However, those malfunctioning reploids have turned to a guerrilla warfare style instead of their past mass attacks. It is much harder for a large army like Repliforce to battle it out with such small evasive groups. We've been working on small response squads to counter such tactics and they've been starting to get results. We even have a specialist who works on counter-cyberterrorism. He can catch a hacker in its tracks, stop the invasion, and counterhack to give us a location to arrest the cyberterrorist."

"Useful," one man said, but in the same neutral voice as earlier. This group was good at hiding their evaluations.

And that made Colonel worry from time to time. This was an important inspection, one that would grant them higher authority in law enforcement matters if he did his best. It could also get them disbanded if they failed miserably, but Colonel highly doubted that would happen. Within Repliforce, everyone took their jobs seriously and with honor. That had to be plain and obvious to even the most oblivious of civilians.

He was proud of his men, though. Repliforce had many great and powerful reploids in it. For their sake, he would not falter to some judgmental mind games played by inspectors.

The one woman decided to continue with her theoretical questions. "We know that Sigma's Mavericks are the most unpredictable and chaotic group out there. But if a large scale war broke out and they were not responsible, what group would you think most likely to instigate such a thing?"

"That's a tough question to answer," he replied, stopping near the middle of the fence blocking off the outdoor practice area. That would be good thing, Colonel felt. They could see how good the fighters were while he tried to get this one right. "We've checked into a lot of those groups and made contingency plans, just in case. We feel that no one really has any grievances severe enough to start a war over," there were problems, just not ones to battle about yet, "so we're not too worried about it. I feel we can trust the Maverick Hunters the most; they work with us a lot and their members are honest, reliable, just, and loyal. Some of the other groups are not quite satisfactory."

"Explain that, please," the woman said, taking notes.

"The Tamar group is too undisciplined. When we've worked with them, its members are often disrespectful. They'll either fall apart or individual members will turn violent. And the Oceania Marine Group is terrible about not being responsive or efficient. If there's trouble from them, it'll be because they do not act when they are needed. But I would think the Red Spears group would be most likely to stir up trouble. They're very eager to respond to multigroup challenges and they're not the most graceful of losers." Such as claiming Colonel and his sparring partner Jet Stingray had cheated in one battle competition. Cheating was beneath him, or anyone from Repliforce. But the Red Spears would not let that go.

"That has been so," she replied, but her tone wasn't too supportive.

Colonel focused on keeping a straight face like them. They were government workers, so why were they pulling all these mind games on him, trying to make him worry? He believed in Repliforce and so he was going to present his group in the best light possible.

* * *

**Government Inspection Agency Report: Repliforce**

Repliforce is a well-trained, well-organized, and highly capable reploid military force in their sixth month of service. However, they are overeager for a war to break out. They have more weapons, especially higher-grade models and ammunitions, than is necessary or prudent for a peace-keeping force to hold on to. In the name of being prepared, they have become overly paranoid and will almost certainly act rashly and too quickly in the event of large-scale violence breaking out. Their members say they work in the name of world peace, but they plainly idealize war and train themselves excessively. They have also been overly forceful in current Maverick breakouts and admit that they cannot keep up with the criminal's guerrilla tactics as they are.

After a discussion between the inspection group members, we recommend that Repliforce be dismantled for being ineffective at their stated goals of fighting Mavericks and for being a dangerous force looking for an excuse to wage war. –June 1, 21XX

* * *

_I feel Colonel is a pretty decent guy: he's very loyal, with honor and respect for those who have earned it. He'd be a good friend to have at your side in a time of trouble. However, his stubbornness for sticking to honor makes him do dumb things. Like refusing to disarm and cooperate with government investigators when a giant floating city that Repliforce happened to be patrolling at the time was sabotaged and sent crashing into a ground city. I mean, seriously? The whole X4 conflict could have been avoided if Colonel just went with X/Zero, gave a statement, and acted humble for a bit. We wouldn't have a game out of that event either, but looking at the story from within the world… yeah, dumb move Colonel._

_I still like him, though._

_Yeah, Repliforce had only been around six months before the X4 conflict. I checked my instruction manual for the game. Cruel thing to happen to those kids, huh?_


	6. Problem Solving

**Problem Solving**

Wet paint was supposed to have a distinctive smell, like a fresh thing, but strong and stifling at the same time. Humans had their noses naturally, but robot masters like Rock didn't have a sense of smell. It took too much processing and too many delicate parts for it to be added to an already complex AI. Perhaps in the future, that might change. For now, it wasn't much of a concern.

Wet paint did have a different look, Rock considered. It glistened on the walls, but stuck in place once he sprayed it on with his paint gun attachment. Earlier, he'd found out that it didn't stick that well if he touched it while the walls glistened. There was still a white smudge on his fingers and he had trouble trying to take it off when the human painter was on a break. Now he wasn't touching the walls while they were wet.

And it was fresh in its own way. The lab wasn't fully back together yet, but it was looking a lot better. Shutting off the paint gun, he looked to the two humans that were working with him. "Mr. Brown, I've finished with my area."

"That you have," the supervisor said, looking over the room. Although he was short, Rock had used a ladder to cover the entire eight feet tall wall. "And a fine job you've done. Thank you Rock. It's a pleasure working with you."

The child-like robot grinned. "You're welcome, sir. I'm glad I could help."

However, there was more to do. Rock helped the two men clean up from their job, then they departed to speak with Dr. Light. The robot went to a supply closet to search for something to take the paint off his hands. Some time ago, he had read every single bottle, box, and container of cleaning supplies to learn what each one was for and how to use them. A few stated that they could remove paint, so he double checked those containers until he found one that specifically stated it would be safe on his synthetic skin. That solved the paint smudge problem.

Glancing out the window on his way back to the lab, he noticed that the sun was going down. That was okay. He didn't need sleep so he could use the entire night to finish his task. Once the paint was dry, he started moving the repaired lab equipment back in place. He checked each piece to make sure it was fixed and clean, then cleaned up any mess he made on accident. While his sister robot Roll cleaned up the house, the lab was Rock's area. He made sure everything was just as it should be and that there were no problems. If there were problems, he would solve them. It was what he'd been made to do.

The night moved on and the child-like robot kept working. After night passed and the sun had been up for an hour, everything was back in place. The lab finally looked like it should: tidy, efficient, and whole. That was another problem solved. Satisfied, Rock left the lab and went into the house.

He found a girl robot with blond hair in the kitchen; she was unloading the dishwasher. "Good morning Roll," Rock said, smiling.

"Good morning, Rock," she replied smiling back. "I haven't seen you in a while."

"I had a lot of work to do in cleaning up the lab. Where's Dr. Light?"

"He's in the living room watching the news. But he's been upset. I've tried helping him, but I'm not sure I'm helping." She put her hand to her chin, looking concerned.

This was an unusual problem. Rock had hoped that by fixing the lab, it might be solved. But maybe not. "I'll talk to him."

"I'll be there in a short while."

In the living room, the TV was blathering some commercial about coffee. It was a nice sized room with a creamy brown couch, matching armchairs, and a rocking chair around a long wooden coffee table. There was only one person in there, an older human with green eyes and white hair. Leaning back in the rocking chair, he was twiddling with his beard and obviously not thinking about the coffee commercial. His eyes were closed, so he might not have noticed his creation entering.

Rock had limited emotions, but he always felt troubled when Dr. Light was upset and worried like this. Hopefully, he had the solution. "Dr. Light, the lab is back in working order, just like it was," he stated.

At that, he opened his eyes. "Oh, good. Thank you Rock." He put his hand down and looked off not quite at the television, which had moved on to a clothing commercial.

"You're welcome," he replied politely. But he was disappointed. That wasn't the correct solution; fixing the lab hadn't made him any less sad or worried. Yet the problem itself was strange and new. Rock couldn't refer back to an old solution because no situation was like this one.

Determined to try anyhow, Rock came closer to Dr. Light and put his hands on the arm of the rocking chair. The man put his arm around the robot's shoulders for a partial hug, but that didn't accomplish much either. The morning news came back on, so the two of them turned to the screen to watch.

"Military forces are struggling to regain control in the western United States where one of the leading roboticists in the world, Dr. Albert Wily, has unleashed a robot army that is battering the much larger human forces. Many cities, including Monsteropolis where Wily used to work with the renowned Dr. Light, have become cut off from the rest of society. People attempting to flee this area have been killed or terrorized for doing so. Authorities are doing their best, but with many civilians still in affected areas and human armors and tanks proving ineffective, their options are limited."

That was the problem. Dr. Wily had taken off with six other robot masters and many mechaniloids, some the others weren't even aware of, and had turned violent against society. In Rock's mind, there was no explanation for it except Wily having some human glitch in his head. He used to seem nice and intelligent, although he requested that Rock stay out of the labs he was working in. Rock was obedient, so he didn't question it. And Dr. Light trusted him, so he didn't question Wily's requests either. In the end, Wily left Rock and Roll behind because they were domestic robot masters, not masters a few steps away from being combatant robots.

And the problem bothered Dr. Light greatly. Looking back to him, Rock saw that he was saddened and hurt by Wily's actions. Maybe angry; Light didn't anger easily, as he had a generally cheerful and optimistic view on life. This was enough to turn him from that cheer, though.

Bothered by that, Rock looked back to the TV to see footage of Bomb Man and Fire Man attacking two remotely-operated tanks. They were getting the better of the human-controlled machines. Seeing them gave Rock another idea for fixing this. He gripped Dr. Light's hand. "I could go fight them if I had the right armor and weapons."

Dr. Light's eyes widened and he looked to Rock. "Rock? Why do you say that?"

"Because it could work," he said. "You made me so I can use a lot of tools, right? I heard on the radio the other day that guns were just another tool, so I could learn to use one like I learned to use the paint gun yesterday. And the contractor said I did a good job with that. I can be fixed easier than the human soldiers too." And that was a solution to this problem.

For a moment, he looked further saddened and worried about this, which made Rock reconsider if that had been a good solution. But then Dr. Light seemed to start thinking about it. "It's going to be a lot more difficult than that. There's one of you while there's six affected robot masters and all those mechaniloids."

"I know," Rock replied. "But if I could do something that is right, I should try. You said that. And you'd be safe if Dr. Wily was captured and his mind glitch fixed."

He sighed. "Humans aren't that easy to fix, especially with a mind glitch, as you say. But we could get an explanation out of Albert if he were captured. Also... you would be going into a very dangerous situation. I don't want to lose you, Rock."

"I'll be careful." Worry was still on Dr. Light's face as he brushed some of Rock's black hair back. So the robot master added, "I promise I'll come back home when I'm done."

That finally got him to smile, even only a little. "That's good to know. Still, I hadn't planned on you becoming combat capable. But…" he was thinking while looking him over, so Rock stayed still and watched him patiently. "You may be right about your variable tool system. I might be able to put something together for you based on that which could give you an advantage. But you'd also need some armor. My young assistant?" He tapped Rock on the nose.

He grinned. "Yes Dad?"

"Let's go to the lab," he said, getting up and turning off the TV. "I need you to get into the exam area and give yourself a thorough scan of both external and internal conditions. It shouldn't be much different than what's on record, but I don't want to risk any errors when we don't have much time. Then go into the storage area and look for leftover armor-grade materials. There should be some left over from the other eight, but take inventory of anything that could be used."

Which meant pretty much take inventory of everything, but that wouldn't take long for Rock. "Okay, let's go!"

That was a satisfactory solution to Dr. Light being troubled by Dy. Wily's treachery. But now Rock had an even more difficult and more foreign problem, fighting Wily's robotic army. He would do his best though. He was made for solving problems.

* * *

_I was going to stick with X series characters. I like the thorny questions presented by the existence of nearly-human machines and where that dividing line exists (or even if it exists when it comes to mental/spiritual/philosophical/ethical/etc. issues). But, I've been reading GrimMoody's stories lately and I recalled this little snapshot that I never had a use for. So yeah, go read her stuff!_

_Hmm, now I have to decide if I want to play my Classic collection or the X collection… there's always that Legends game too…_


	7. Moonscape

**Moonscape**

Who is Lumine?

The moon was a place of silence in its natural state. One could hear in its faint atmosphere, but there was nothing about to make noise. Except him. The scuff of his boots against the dusty surface we unnoticeable on Earth, terribly loud here on the moon. Even the faint machinery that worked inside him could be heard, a soft hum that rose and fall, which could sometimes be mistaken for a human breathing. But a human would not be able to walk out here like he was, without highly specialized protective armor.

It was all white, gray, and black around him. The crater spread for miles around, some ancient scar that did not heal. Walking a familiar route, Lumine did not bother to be highly alert. Anyone sneaking after him would be unmistakable in the silent moonscape. And there weren't many places to hide either. That was an advantage to this place. But a disadvantage was that the silence encouraged thoughts, especially those that made him uneasy. Like one that never really went away.

Who is Lumine?

He wasn't an impressive reploid, at least not on the surface. He had a slender build, for one. for another, he had a non-threatening appearance, with lavender hair and a youthful face. That was just the surface though. Beyond that, he wasn't quite sure who he was. His self was like the moon, in a way, silent to him.

Compounding his lack of self identity was that he had the information on hundreds of other reploids in his mind. Lumine knew their identities, personalities, and quirks. With his copy chip, he could shift his mind, energy, and powers into any one of those reploids too. He could limit himself to the most narrow-minded of mining overseers or expand himself to the hyper calculating and planning of the best reploid tacticians. He could know water's flow intuitively like an oceanic researcher, or know a wildfire's path like an expert firefighter, or know the automatic processes that made the best swordfighters so graceful. Never all at once, though.

He had no information on himself.

Who is Lumine?

He was the leader of the Jakob Orbital Elevator center. Located at the Galapagos Islands, it was a more efficient and now safer mode of transport off the planet. These days, it was used primarily by humans. They wished to leave the world they had ravaged behind. That was the reasoning, although the excuse was mainly to escape the periodic wars and continual uprising of Maverick reploids. While much of the moon was still vast empty wasteland like the crater Lumine walked in, it would surely grow to be covered in human habitations.

At times, Lumine was amused at the thought that they were using his elevator to escape reploid wars, but they had staffed the elevator exclusively with reploids. They could afford some confidence. Lumine and his peers were all the newest generation of reploids, ones built expressly to resist the psychotic virus that changed the programming and personality of older reploids. Still, that may not be enough.

He had to be careful with such thoughts, he reminded himself. They came primarily when he was shifted into certain minds. Like Sigma's. It was just as absurd as the all-reploid elevator staff, but his copy chip included information on the leader of the maverick reploids. And other highly violent reploids who gave interesting variations to the darker thoughts in Lumine's mind. If he even had his own mind.

Who? Is? Lumine?

He often found it tempting to blame his human creators for failing to give him a proper identity. And that amusement at the absurdity of human behavior, that often served to lighten his mood. Yes, he knew it was wrong to think that way. But it was wrong by human standards and humans were absurd about many things. Even their own standards? That could very well be, based on how contradictory they could be.

Hearing another hum besides his own systems, he looked over to see the transmission device he had come to perform maintenance on. This was part of the Jakob elevator too, the guidance system that confirmed the relations between the moon, the Earth, and the elevator's counterweight. It allowed for safe trips between the two astral bodies. Taking off one of the panels, Lumine began the routine maintenance. The guidance computer asked the very same thing he was asking himself all along.

Who is Lumine?

He gave his password, which was acceptable by the lesser computer's standards. But that wasn't acceptable to him. An identity wasn't as simple as a password, as a unique energy signature. An identity was what explained what one did, what one was doing, and what one would do.

Then, what had he done? He had taken control of the Jakob Orbital Elevator project as planned. He had been given extensive information on how it worked and extensive processing capacity to not only run the whole complex almost single-handedly, but to also manage the massive backlog of data on the hundreds of reploids that had formed the basis of his generation of reploids. From talking with the others, he knew he was the only one given all that data; the rest just had the routines and personality bases. And in talking to others, he was patient as he knew that he was highly unlikely to meet anyone with an intelligence that could compare to his.

Lumine's past was quite bland, made of lots of connected and disconnected data.

What was he doing? He was running the Jakob Orbital Elevator. Not single-handedly, but he could do so with at a moment's notice. He carried out work not only on Earth, but at the counterweight station and here on the moon. When on his own, he liked working in the wastelands of the moon best, even if it gave rise to troubling thoughts. He was still patient with others, liking the moment when they finally got it.

But then, he also liked to imagine darker things, like driving a screwdriver into the head of the next person that came up and asked him another stupid question about the safety of his life's work. He had gotten to be able to anticipate such questions and answer them before they came up. That relieved some of his irritation at such things. But that was wrong by human standards, which he wasn't quite sure he trusted anymore. They couldn't give him an identity, after all.

Lumine's present was still bland, at least on the surface.

What would he do?

Interesting question, one to add to the other. Who is Lumine? What would he do?

The maintenance was done and everything came up fine. As to be expected. Gripping the smooth cold metal panel, Lumine wondered for a moment what it would be like to snap that panel in two. He could do it, if he put himself into the program set of a strong enough reploid. It had the promise to be immediately satisfying. But he held off on that for now. Even on the silent moon, there was a chance for contaminants to get into the guidance computer, which would mess up his flawless record.

In another moment, he wondered what it would be like to offset the computer just slightly. It would only take a few small tweaks to the calculations, nudging the time syncing off by seconds. But if he did it carefully, it would end up with an elevator launched vessel crashing into the humans' safety bubble, exposing them to the dangerous solar radiation and extremely low atmosphere. Everyone could die, even reploids if he made some other tweaks here and there…

But no. No. That was much too obvious. Since Lumine did much of the maintenance work, he would be immediately held under suspicion. It could be amusing for a time, but then they would cut off any opportunity for him to do something else. And once he set a plan like that in action, he felt that he wouldn't be satisfied to leave it at just one 'accident'.

As he reattached the panel, he realized with annoyance that his future, as it seemed now, was most likely to be just as bland as everything else in his life. According to that identity examination, Lumine was an intelligent, dutiful, patient, informative, and absolutely bland reploid. He did not like that. He could deal with being the first four; being intelligent, dutiful, patient, and informative led to excellent results. But being bland? He did not want to be known for being bland.

There were much more exciting mindsets in his database, reploids who would be called anything but bland. Reploids who had realized the absurdity of humans and did something about it. He felt like he would like to be one of those. However, he didn't want himself lumped with those failures, with the viral Mavericks who supposedly had no control over what they did. Lumine felt it was a case of history being written by the victors. Perhaps more than just a few of the old Mavericks were more than ordinary basketcases. Maybe they were revolutionaries who never achieved their end goals.

Setting back off across the empty moonscape, Lumine reflected on his viral immunity. If he were to revolt against mankind, it could not be blamed on some mindless virus. He would want to make a grand show of that, though. He would want to show mankind the true potential of what it had created, to see their horror in that he could choose to be a 'Maverick' without suffering any mental deterioration as a result. That would take a great deal of cunning and planning.

Who is Lumine?

"Someone they have trusted far too much," he said to the silent moonscape.

* * *

_I was challenged to cover Lumine... and I mean challenged. I haven't played X8! Hehe. But I found some dialogue, pictures, discussion, and of course the Megaman wikia. So how'd I do?_


	8. Whirlwind

_Another Iris piece, but oh so very different. Takes place late in X4, after second battle with Colonel._

**Whirlwind**

The space station was not pretty, was not comforting. The seemingly endless halls were made of blank metal with small air vents every twenty feet. Not even the doors broke up the monotony. Embedded in walls were weapons and traps, including hologram projectors covering pits in the floor. Hidden cameras were there too, keeping an eye on the reploid walking with quick steps. But she was a member of Repliforce, so nothing triggered on her.

She stood out in this place; the bright reds and blues of her dress were jarring against the dull metal surfaces, and the earthy brown of her hair did not fit the artificial construct. Iris didn't really like this place, but she had to be here. If things went well, there would be time to soften the looks of things, make it more comfortable. Things were already going terribly, though, and her mind was far from thoughts of redecorating.

According to her map, she was in the right place. Everything looked exactly the same to her and nothing about this door said it was anything special. Iris requested the door to open; it took twenty seconds for it to decide that the request was valid and to open itself. Then she went into her brother's office.

Back on Earth, Colonel's office had been something of a wreck. He organized things to some odd system that only he understood, but if he got called off to do something more active (and thus, to his liking), he would leave whatever he was working on right where it was until he remembered to finish it. There were usually ten different projects like this that he was 'working on' at a time. And there had been some odd statuette of an otter in a pirate costume that was always sitting in a different spot when Iris visited her brother. While there were other knick-knack gifts scattered about the office, that otter was his favorite.

This office was bland and neat, so unlike Colonel. Everything was in its proper place and there were no half-finished projects lying around. There had never been a project to procrastinate on here at the space station. On the shelves, there were books and bins that had never been opened, never been used. There were no dusty spots and no stains. This place had never been used, and it never would be used. Colonel was dead.

Iris grimaced, disliking this room as much as the rest of this place. No, maybe hating it more because her brother was supposed to be here, but he wasn't. If he were here, he'd be rearranging things and setting up his pirate otter somewhere. And there would be boisterous music playing too. The room was quiet and sterile.

Why had he been killed? As she felt warm tears on her cheeks, she knew that she could say why. He had stayed behind to make sure no one interfered with the transport shuttle taking off. But someone did: X and Zero of the Maverick Hunters, sent in by the government to permanently shut down Repliforce. They had done that because Repliforce had been battling government forces in retaliation for being branded rogue, branded Mavericks when no one in Repliforce was infected with any viruses.

And they had been branded that because Sky Lagoon had fallen while Repliforce members had been patrolling it, when they hadn't been responsible for that accident. The reason they had been there had been because they were trying to regain official accreditation after an inspection committee labeled them dangerous and ineffective. And that had been because Repliforce had been doing exactly what it had been made to do, be an army ready to fight a large-scale war. Definitely not the ineffective part, but the dangerous part had been exaggerated.

Although she could trace the trail of this disaster back, she didn't want to accept that as a reason to explain this mess. Iris wanted to believe that their leader General had been truly inspired by good ideals. They had been made to protect world peace by eliminating those who threatened it. When humans began to be afraid of them, began to disarm them, General had simply changed that to protecting peace for a nation of reploids. They would even go to the moon to get away from humans if need be. That was the reason this station had been acquired.

To be in a peaceful harmonious community where reploids could be free to be what they wished to be… Iris believed in that dream. But why had that dream become this nightmare of war and death and suffering? Why did they have to fight so violently for their community of peace?

Unless it was inevitable that reploids built for war would wage war, no matter what they tried to do in avoiding that fate.

No! She didn't want to believe that. Frustrated, she grabbed a folder at random and threw it at the other wall. The red folder clattered open and would have scattered papers if there had been any inside. Red.

Zero had been the one to kill Colonel. She knew this because she had watched the battle on the shuttle as they had been leaving Earth behind. Ideally, they would have teleported him to the shuttle just before they hit the atmosphere and the range limit. But then X and Zero had come, and Zero had killed Colonel.

Why did it have to be him? Iris could have dealt with it if X had killed him. Well not really, but she could have at least had the illusion of being able to draw Zero over to Repliforce's side. She had dated him a few times and liked to see that he was getting less awkward about it, even warming up some. And she wanted him to join their community of peace, so they could be together and not worry about any more wars or battles. For that reason, she had convinced Colonel and Zero to stop fighting earlier in this mad conflict. She had tried to talk Zero into stopping the Hunters from stopping Repliforce's move to the moon. If X had killed Colonel, she could have believed in the dream, hard enough to make it come true. It could have happened, even if a snide part of her mind said that the plan was just a delusion.

But no! Colonel and Zero had to ignore her request when she wasn't around to enforce it! Iris hated both of them for doing that. They were supposed to work for peace, not war. Couldn't they try to improve and try to not fight over every single little issue? And she hated General too, for starting a war in the name of a peaceful dream. Why did he say he wanted utopia and then tell everyone to ready their weapons? Had she failed to show them that fighting wasn't everything?

She failed…

No, they had failed to listen to her. They had failed to listen to reason and hope. When she believed in the power of love, they only spoke of it while believing in the power of anger and hate. She tried to be pure and everything else was corrupt. The world had the scars of war because if those scars healed and faded, new ones would appear more terrible than the last. So what was the point of even hoping that things could change? The only change was death and one of her closest friends, her dear brother, was now dead because he could not change from what he had been programmed to do. Reploids were supposed to be able to change, but they weren't. And there wasn't anything Iris could do about any of it.

Gritting her teeth, her tears seemed as ineffective as any of the rest of her. Giving a short scream of rage, she ripped another folder off the too tidy shelf and threw it at the too clean desk. It hit a plastic organizer tray and knocked it onto the floor, making a snap as it broke. She wasn't supposed to be violent, but that was somehow satisfying. Tearing down the order of this misfortunately empty office worked for a while, but eventually there were no more folders to rip out and no more bins to slam into the floor.

The office was now a total mess, like some whirlwind had blasted through it. But it didn't change the fact that her brother Colonel was dead, and her boyfriend Zero was the killer, and her leader General was ultimately the one to destroy the dream he had promised. Iris dropped down to the floor, weeping harder and shaking. What could she do now? Everything was ruined. There were no hopes to be had, no dreams with which to delude herself with. Nothing but the stark and sterile truth.

At some point, there came the message that X and Zero had managed to board the station. Iris considered killing herself for a minute. She certainly wasn't going to let them take her now. And she wished that magic were real somehow and there was a way to go back and fix the things that went wrong. Just wish it all away and make the dream of idealism become reality. But that certainly wasn't going to happen either.

Then she noticed that one of the bins had not actually been empty. Down in the mess she had made, there was a chip lying intact. She picked it up and soon realized what it was. It was one she had helped to design, a transformation chip which was to grant Colonel a stronger form should he need it someday. When he'd gotten it, he hadn't been too impressed with it. He said that his skill with a sword was all he needed to win. If he had swallowed his pride and used it, would he have won against Zero? What would Iris be thinking of then?

What if she used it to get revenge for her brother?

That was madness, utter madness. The system wasn't fully compatible with hers. Sure, she could transform with it and possibly even fight in that form. But it ran on more power than her body could provide. She could use a backup generator unit to get that power. However, the transformation did not account for such a thing and the generator would be poorly protected. Or the unit could blast more power into her systems than she could handle, leading to fatal programming errors that would glitch her badly enough to become unrecoverable. The chances of her using this chip and a generator to fight someone like Zero without getting killed were slim. Maybe even none.

If she just killed herself here, Zero might be saddened by that fact, but only a bit guilty. If she killed herself by using this chip in a fatal battle against him, Zero would be punished for going against her wishes and ruining the dream of Repliforce. They would all be punished for destroying the ideals of peace and love.

Iris whimpered, not liking this plan one bit. She wasn't supposed to be like this. She was supposed to be the peaceful and loving one. she was supposed to teach others to be the same way.

But peace and love weren't working.

War and hatred were working.

It was her time to join the corruption.

* * *

_Various sources say she got the transformation chip from Colonel after he died. But if he had it, why didn't he use it? And how did Iris get it when he was delaying the Maverick Hunters from stopping the others from moving to the space station? Also, if the chip wasn't compatible with her systems, how could Iris even use it? That's what I was trying to explain here. That, and contrast the earlier fluff piece with something angsty. That fluff-angst contrast makes Iris an interesting character to me._

_And yes, I had considered writing a fic for X4. But it would be a lot of battles and I don't like writing battles. I put my attention to novelizing another MMX game instead._


End file.
